


Challenge Accepted (a collection of Summer Pornathon entries from years past)

by ingberry



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 90's Music, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Canon Era, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, M/M, Makeup Sex, Multi, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Rimming, Sex Club, Sharing Clothes, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Summer, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Travel, Tournaments, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Virginity, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:39:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 12,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5738749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingberry/pseuds/ingberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to pack porn, feels and plot into 750 words makes me cry intense tears over my keyboard every summer, and Summer Pornathon is still my favourite of all favourite things. Here's a collection of my entries!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lance/Leon/(Gwaine) Office rimming (2012)

**Author's Note:**

> Over the past four years, I've been doing Summer Pornathon on the EVER AMAZING Team Envy, and it's been one of my favourite parts of fandom since I joined in. I've posted a couple of my entries in cleaned up form, and I've had plans to do the same with several others, but I never seem to actually get that done and I feel bad that they're all just sitting around in folders being all sad and neglected. So here are a collection of the entries I can still find on my laptop in their original, unedited pornathon glory. 
> 
> All pornathon entries follow the week's challenge theme, and have a limit of 750 words. So, some of these are labours of love and some of them are products of panic, despair and a fast approaching deadline. Nevertheless, they're all in good fun!
> 
> Eternal love and sloppy kisses to everyone at pthon for making it such a fun thing, and especially to Team Envy because I love you guys so fucking much. 
> 
> **Notes on posting:** I'll post the challenge for each fic in the notes to give it some context. I also thought I'd be fun to post what I have chronologically, because I thought it'd be fun to see if there are any differences in the early ones and the later ones! I originally joined pthon to learn to write porn, because at that point I honestly hadn't at all, which is actually hilarious to think about these days.
> 
> ALSO. I added the pairing and a little description to the chapter title so it might be easier to navigate the contents based on preferences. (some of the descriptions sound like terrible porn tag lines oh god XD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot isn’t entirely sure how he ended up here with Leon spread over his desk, but he supposes it may have been inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **minor characters** in round 4 (2012) of pthon. 
> 
> **Warnings:** exhibitionism, rimming

Lancelot isn’t entirely sure how he ended up here with Leon spread over his desk, but he supposes it may have been inevitable. They’ve been dancing around each other for months. Not long ago, Leon had cornered him in the copy room and licked into his mouth with such enthusiasm that Lance spent the rest of the day with a hard on. 

Now that they’ve been celebrating the new important client with a champagne fountain and unnamed amounts of jelly shots, it really isn’t that surprising that Lance is pressing Leon into the desk with one hand at his back while the other is wrapped around Leon’s cock, pumping him with steady strokes. 

The actually surprising bit is Gwaine, lounging on the couch in Lance’s office, his legs spread wide as he fists himself, his eyes hooded as he looks over at them. And the even more surprising bit is how fucking hot it is to know that Gwaine is jerking himself off to the sight of Leon spread over his desk, clutching the edge of it as he grunts softly. 

“Touch his balls,” Gwaine says, suddenly, his voice low. 

Lance closes his eyes, almost embarrassed by the way his cock hardens at the sound of Gwaine giving him orders. He considers ignoring it because Gwaine is a smug bastard who always gets his way, but something about taking the orders is making his legs shake with want. 

When he reaches down and cups Leon’s balls, Gwaine and Leon groan at the same time and Lance thinks he might just come because _jesus_. 

“Use your tongue, Lance,” Gwaine says and Lance looks over at him, his eyes drawn to the way Gwaine’s hand is curling around his cock. “Lick his arsehole until he fucking comes all over your desk.”

Leon shudders under Lance’s hand, his knuckles whitening as he tightens his hold on the desk. Some voice in the back of his head says that he should feel some shame about this, but it’s drowned out by the fact that Leon is so hard under his hand that it seems like it should be painful. 

Lance swallows thickly and meets Gwaine’s eyes as he lowers himself into his chair, gripping at Leon’s hips and pulling him closer until he can press an open-mouthed kiss to the small of Leon’s back, mouthing along the swell of his arse. Leon’s breath is labored, but the moan comes from Gwaine. 

Spreading Leon’s cheeks with gentle hands, he kisses softly down the crease, his breath hot against the skin and Leon squirms under him until Lance has to grip him tighter, holding him in place as he flicks the tip of his tongue over the hole. Leon’s breath comes out in stuttering gasps and Lance presses closer, moving his tongue in slow strokes. 

“Fuck, he’s loving it, Lance,” Gwaine says, his voice choked. “You should see his face.”

Lance moans in response and Leon bucks against him with a needy whimper. His cock is pulsing almost uncomfortably when he moves a hand over to slip the tip of his thumb into the hole, licking around the edge of it to soothe the burn. Leon nearly arches off the desk, his thighs shaking with the strain. 

Gwaine gives a throaty laugh. “You’ve never had your arse licked before, have you? He’s doing it so good for you.”

“God,” Leon says through gritted teeth and Lance feels heady with all of it, ready to slam his cock into Leon until either Leon or the desk falls apart. But Gwaine had told him to lick him until he came and he feels a strange need to do as he’s been told. 

He replaces his thumb with his tongue, curling it a little as he pushes into Leon, fucking him until his jaw aches. Leon presses back into him, giving broken moans at every backward push of his hips. 

“Fuck, yeah, fuck his tongue, Leon. Shit, that’s so fucking brilliant.” Gwaine’s voice is strangled and Lance looks up, managing to catch a glimpse of Gwaine fucking up into his hand looking absolutely wrecked. 

It’s too fucking much: Leon’s hot arsehole clamping tight around him as he fucks into it, the sight of Gwaine coming apart. Lance reaches down, gripping himself tightly as Leon cries out and wraps a hand around his own cock, coming all over the desk in thick spurts. 

Lance sees Gwaine arch up into his own grip just as he comes gasping against Leon’s skin.


	2. Merlin/Arthur: Community fusion (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Starting on my left with one. Your number comes up: you go get the pizza.” Arthur rubs the die between his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The challenge was **Crossovers and fusions** in round 4 (2012) of pthon. I decided to tackle a fusion with S03E04 - Remedial Chaos Theory of Community in 750 words because apparently I like to torture myself!
> 
> No warnings.
> 
> (if you're unfamiliar with this episode of Community, it creates a scenario where 7 different timelines appear)

“Starting on my left with one. Your number comes up: you go get the pizza.” Arthur rubs the die between his fingers. 

The group seated around the table groans and Merlin smirks. “Just so you know; you’re now creating six different timelines with six different consequences following the number you roll.”

“Of course I am, Merlin,” Arthur says flatly and throws the die. 

*  
 **one**  
Gwen relents without a fuss. The cheering stops when the door falls closed and it’s quiet for a moment as Merlin catches Arthur’s eyes over the table and Arthur winks, his smile growing. 

“If you two have sex on the table I’m going to hurl,” Gwaine says loudly and laughter erupts. 

Arthur looks away with flushed cheeks and Merlin’s eyes drop to the table.

**

 **two**  
The last they saw of Gwaine was his middle finger as he disappeared out the door and he’d left the group chatting quietly. Everyone were lost in conversation and Merlin found himself able to slink off into the bathroom, his head too full of the wank fantasy he’d had about Arthur earlier to even function properly in conversation. 

He almost thinks he’s still fantasising when Arthur slips inside, his eyes finding Merlin quickly as he moves forwards, taking Merlin’s face into his hands and pressing their lips together. It’s _amazing_ until Morgana throws the door open with a bang and they jump apart. 

***  
 **three**  
Merlin looks at them across the room, his body feeling heavy and almost foreign. Gwen leans into Arthur and laughs as he whispers something into her ear. The smile on Arthur’s face is blinding and Merlin wants it for himself. He wants to bottle it up and keep it forever. And yet, the smile is for Gwen and all Merlin wants is for Lance to return with the pizza. 

****  
 **four**  
“And I didn’t mean to make her angry at me, you know?” Elena says, flailing her hands a little. “I was just trying to be honest, but I think she hates me now. Do you think she does?”

Merlin stares longingly over at Arthur, wishing he’d been quick enough to get his attention when Morgana had left the seat open when she went down to get the pizza. Instead Elena had nabbed it and is currently outlining a very long misunderstanding with Morgana. 

“It’ll be fine,” Merlin says, his eyes once again straying to Arthur.

******  
 **five**  
Merlin had been as quick as he could, running down the stairs and down to the main entrance to pay the pizza guy. He made a joke about different timelines created by Arthur’s die-rolling and the pizza guy had looked at him with wide eyes. 

“ _Dude_! There are different timelines?!”

When Merlin comes back they descend on him like a pack of hyenas. 

“Excellent pizza-getting skills,” Arthur says close to his ear and Merlin feels like Arthur just told him he’d hung the moon.

*******

 **six**  
Elena had asked him to get her another beer before she ran off downstairs and Merlin heads into the kitchen, moving slightly to the beat of the music Elena had put on before she left (“Roxanne!”). When he comes back into the room everyone’s dancing, throwing their arms up and laughing at each other. 

Merlin sidles up to Arthur and beams, jumping up and down as they sing along (“You don’t have to put on the red light!”). They smile widely, moving closer until Elena pushes in between them with the pizzas and laughs, swaying her hips.

-

 **seven**  
“Wanker!” The group had chorused as they realised Arthur had devised a system where he never had to get the pizza, being person number seven. 

He’d just laughed at them, saluting mockingly when they forced him to go instead of throwing the die. Merlin figured he needed to make sure Arthur didn’t mess up the food. 

“What about the pizzas?” Merlin says now, pressed against the wall in the hallway where he’d caught up with Arthur. 

“You really want to talk about this now?” Arthur asks, looking up at Merlin, his hand slowing slightly on Merlin’s cock. 

“Hngh, _no_.”

Arthur smirks and takes Merlin into his mouth, closing his lips tight around him until Merlin’s head falls back against the wall. His heartbeat thunders in his ears when Arthur seems to try to suck his brains out through his cock. 

“Fu-uck, _Arthur_ ,” he says to the beat of _Roxanne_ coming from the flat down the hall. 

He really needs this to be the real timeline.


	3. Merlin/Arthur: exhibitionism on camera (2013)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur booked them into the hotel as Mr. Harding and Mr. Willing, which is really just the tackiest choice to date, but Arthur seemed outlandishly proud about the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the **kink grab bag** challenge in round 5 (2013) of pthon. The kinks grabbed were public sex and a very small pinch of power play. 
> 
> **warnings:** exhibitionism, some power play. Also written on a tablet while taking trains through Europe on holiday so take that as you will? haha XD Gotta make it work for pthon.

Arthur booked them into the hotel as Mr. Harding and Mr. Willing, which is really just the tackiest choice to date, but Arthur seemed outlandishly proud about the whole thing. So Merlin only teased him about it a little. He'd made a point of calling Arthur Mr. Harding in a mocking tone as they pulled the masks over their eyes, but that had only backfired, truth be told. 

”Are you insinuating that you're Willing?” Arthur said, eyed glinting. 

And he was, of course. He always is. Merlin is the one who spreads himself put in front of the camera, fucking himself on his own fingers until he's slick and panting, knowing that people are watching him ready himself for Arthur's cock. 

He likes preparing himself, slowly pumping his fingers in and out as he studies Arthur, looking at his broad chest and the hand wrapped tight on his thick cock. He knows that people are watching, wishing it was them being stretched by it, fantasising about Arthur holding them down and fucking them. 

Sometimes he reads their emails out loud to Arthur until they're so far gone they just rut against each other, coming in a slippery mess between them.  
Merlin looks at the camera settled on the stand by the hotel bed, parting his legs wider. He's on display, completely, and the familiar rush of lust makes his dick twitch against his stomach. 

There's a certain frame of mind they both enter into when they do this. It's not like when they have sex in private, where they whisper and touch and laugh, fucking lazily or hurriedly depending on he mood. This is always so intense and there's little room for the private little things. 

Merlin moves down from the bed, careful not to slip out of the camera frame as he slips to his knees in front of Arthur, nuzzling against his hard cock with a content little hum. Arthur's fingers tangle in his hair with the telltale roughness. This is a show as much as it is for them alone . 

Taking Arthur into his mouth, Merlin opens his lips wide, letting Arthur push him down with a hand cradled at the back of his head. He breathes deeply, taking as much of Arthur as he can, knowing exactly how it looks when his lips are stretched wide around Arthur's cock. 

He keeps his hands on his own thighs, relaxing his jaw as Arthur starts to fuck his mouth, cock dragging over Merlin's tongue in steady strokes. Merlin can feel their eyes on him, knowing that they're watching his lips being used until they're red and swollen. 

They wear masks that cover half their face, they never stream anything from either of their flats, but there's still a risk. It wouldn't be impossible for someone to recognise Merlin's lips or the general shape of them. 

But that thought has always made it more intense. 

Arthur's eyes are hooded behind the mask as they watch him, his mouth slack as he seems entirely blissed out by watching his dick disappear into Merlin's mouth. 

The fucking is fast and rough. Merlin doesn't bother holding back his increasingly loud moans as Arthur nearly folds him in half, fucking him open and raw. He knows his hole is on display from behind as it takes the thickness of Arthur, clutching him in and clinging to him. 

”Couple hundred tonight,” Arthur mutters into his neck, sweat from his forehead damp on Merlin's skin. 

Merlin arches up at that, pushing into Arthur's rhythm until they both shout from how fucking perfect it feels. 

”They all want to fuck you. Fuck, they all love the way you look fucked out and claimed.” 

His mind going completely blank, Merlin goes rigid and spills himself between them, some of the come hitting his chin. 

\---

They read emails the next Saturday and Merlin fucks Arthur over the back of the couch until he sobs.


	4. Elena/Gwaine, Elena/Other, Gwaine/Other: open relationship (2013)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elena’s fingers whitened against the counter when he slid inside, slowly spreading her open around his cock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **banging bedframes and slumbering sluts** in round 5 (2013) of pthon. 
> 
> **Warnings:** open relationship (but small amount of possessiveness?)

Elena’s fingers whitened against the counter when he slid inside, slowly spreading her open around his cock. It was almost too much to take, bordering on painful in a way that made her gasp for breath. She fogged up the bathroom mirror as she clenched around him, the sheer size of him making it feel like she was being touched in places she didn’t know she had.

The conversation that carried on outside the bathroom seemed to be about footie and she nearly laughed at how she’d never cared less about Chelsea and Mourinho in her entire life. But the sound got stuck in her throat as he – Percy – dug his hands into her hips and moved.

He moved. Which meant that his giant cock filled her up until she felt the pulses of pleasure in her toes. Crying out, she pushed herself back on him, meeting his eyes in the mirror as he fucked her boneless.

Part of her wanted to rip the condom off and feel him fill her up as he came, but that was against the rules and she would always obey the rules, no matter what. Even if she was being fucked so good she could barely think straight.

She couldn’t stop looking at the picture they made in the mirror: his face slack as he looked down between them, her breasts bouncing every time he hit that spot that made her skin feel like fire.

He braced himself against the sink and she wrapped her hand around his wrist, angling her hips into his thrusts until all she could focus on was the slide of him and his breath against her neck. She hunched forwards, whining sharply as she started shaking apart.

****

Pulling her shirt over her head, she stepped closer to the bed and toed out of her shoes. The covers were cool against her heated skin as she slipped under them, her hands finding sleep-warm skin. She hooked her arm around his waist, snuggling against his back.

He stirred, breath no longer shallow with sleep. Pulling back, she let him turn toward her, giving her a sleepy smile.

“Had fun?” Gwaine asked, voice deep and scratchy like it always was after he woke up.

“When isn’t Freya’s fun? Vivian was hammered beyond belief.” She rested her head against the pillow.

He hummed, his hand resting at her waist before sliding down over the curve of her hips, thumb rubbing circles on her thigh.

“Did you find anyone?”

She met his eyes and nodded, biting down on her lip. “Freya’s colleague. He was... " She paused. “Huge.”

Gwaine’s lips quirked, his hand moving between her legs. His fingers brushed over her folds where she was still wet and used. “Did he fuck you good?”

“Yeah.” She smiled against the pillow, cheeks flushing a little. “In the bathroom, in front of the mirror.”

She gave a strangled moan, muscles tensing a little, as Gwaine slipped two fingers into her.

“Did you let him fuck you bare? Come inside you?”

Leaning forwards, their breaths mingling, she shook her head. “You know I didn’t.”

He took her lips in a bruising kiss, tongue hot and demanding. Melting into him, fingers curling around his bicep, her hips pushed into his touch. She rocked on his fingers until a shiver ran down her back.

“Yeah, that’s only for me,” he said, breath hot on her lips. “He probably wanted to feel you, fill you with his come, but he can’t.”

She hummed, smiling. Even if their relationship was an open one, she loved that it was possessive too. That there were things that belonged only to them even if Gwaine regularly fucked Morgana over the desk at his office – even if Mithian licked her until she screamed. Some things were only theirs, and would always be theirs.

When Gwaine’s cock pushed into her without warning, she threw her head back and moaned, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Did he make you feel good?” He whispered in her ear as he fucked her, thrusts deep and steady, into the bed - their bed, their space. 

Remembering the feeling of Percy spreading her open on his cock, fucking her against the mirror, she nodded, breath shaky.

“Good.”

Gwaine nuzzled against her cheek as he came, filling her with his come, her heart thudding in her chest. Her orgasm was more like a breeze than a storm, leaving her content and warm when she curled up against his chest.


	5. Uther/Gwen: canon era past relationship (2013)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen can say that she has no idea why the ghost of Uther Pendragon hates her enough to try to kill her, but that would be a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **canon era** in round 5 (2013) of pthon. 
> 
> **Warnings:** power imbalance, age difference (but Gwen is never underage)

Gwen can say that she has no idea why the ghost of Uther Pendragon hates her enough to try to kill her, but that would be a lie. And as it is, she does lie, just like she has lied by omission for years. She lets everyone make their assumptions about why Uther might hate her, and they're all very reasonable deductions. 

There is no reason to tell them the truth. The truth is only hers to live with and it will stay that way. 

If it hadn't been for Arthur, she wouldn't have been ashamed of it. She wouldn't have cared who knew. She was young, having a good time with men was something she enjoyed and it wasn't uncommon for the royalty to find pleasure in the commoners who worked for them. 

It was innocent pleasure and festivity. And she was hardly the only one. She had seen and heard her fair share of others, which she had never found problematic. The king was alone, after all, and he never took advantage of those already committed elsewhere. 

She still remembers his hands on her hips, using his tight grip to pull her back into his rhythm. He would press her down onto the table once everyone had cleared out after a feast, holding her down as he took her hard and fast. She remembers the urgency of it and the pure pleasure of just having someone inside her, someone who knew how to make her moan open mouthed into the still air. 

He was the first man she bedded who didn't fumble, who wasn't over eager. There was a precision to the way he opened her up and thrust into her until she was gripping at whatever she could reach. 

Sometimes he would speak to her, telling her filthy things about her wrapped around his cock. Sometimes he'd make her talk, make her remember who she was bedding. And the one night he actually took her to bed, she'd screamed herself hoarse as he filled her over and over again until she was limp and exhausted. 

He had never hated her then, but back then she had been in her place. She had known where she belonged and never overstepped her boundaries even if the king occasionally took her for their mutual pleasure. 

He had taken her on the throne once. Her thighs had straddled him as he lowered her down on his cock. He'd reached in and kissed her neck, his lips soft and unexpected on her skin as she felt herself open around him, pulling him in until he could go no longer. 

She controlled them for once, bracing herself against his shoulders as she rode him, hips circling in his lap with his hot breath on her neck. It was good, it was exciting, he was wide and hard inside her in a way that she loved. 

He'd told her then, how lucky she was to sit on the throne. He'd thrust his cock into her, his big hands on her skin, and told her that only a few select people would ever grace the throne of Camelot and this was her one chance - her single opportunity to know what the royal throne felt like. 

He was wrong. 

And that's why he hates her.


	6. Gwen/Lance: oral sex (2014)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen quite likes being right, especially when Morgana is so utterly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **Sexpistolary** from round 6 (2014) of pthon. The fic had to be based on one of the posts on texts from last night. Honestly can't remember the text I used, but it was something about sex on a fire escape. ;)

Gwen quite likes being right, especially when Morgana is so utterly wrong. “He’s the most boring person in the universe, Gwen, I don’t think he’s done a single exciting thing in his life,” was Morgana’s assessment of Lancelot. Gwen had realised everyone at Morgana and Lancelot’s office thought the same, but she’d been sure that there’s way more to him than that. 

Even if she doesn’t even know him. She’s just been lusting from afar, because Lancelot’s gorgeous with amazing eyes and arms that makes her want to cuddle in bed forever. And fingers that she wants buried in her cunt. 

So it’s really pretty splendid to be right, she thinks, as she twists her fingers into his hair and tugs, her legs spreading wider. The stairs of the fire escape are cold against her thighs, digging into the flesh. Lancelot has her knickers pulled to the side and his head between her legs. 

Inside, Gwaine’s flat is full of people and the sounds of loud chatter and music are audible even though Lancelot had shut the door behind them. The sounds don’t quite drown out her moans, and she peers up at the open bedroom window of Gwaine’s upstairs neighbour. She bites her lip and forces herself to stay quiet. 

Lancelot’s tongue circles her clit, the sudden contact making her leg twitch. He reaches out and runs his hand along her leg, looking up at her with those stupidly gorgeous eyes of his. His mouth is hot and perfect on her, his tongue sending jolts of pleasure that travel through every part of her. 

He mutters something against her and the vibration makes a moan slip out, her hand tightening in his hair. 

“I’m sure he fucks with the light off,” Morgana had said, and the memory of it makes Gwen grin. 

She moves her hips against him, just slightly, wondering if he’ll mind. Her eyes widen when he groans and she does it again, pushing up into his tongue. Her pulse runs fast and uncontrolled as his hands grip at her hips, a hungry moan vibrating against her clit. 

“Shit,” she says, her free hand gripping at the metal of the fire escape. 

A particularly loud round of laughter comes from Gwaine’s flat and for a moment she freezes, reminded of where they are. But then Lancelot fucks his tongue into her cunt and she moans, deep and long, throwing her head back. Her hair slides from her shoulder and she grinds up against his mouth. 

Her fingers twist harder in his hair when she comes, her thighs tightening around his head. She arches upwards, every muscle in her body relaxing at the release of tension. She sinks back, graceless and spent. 

He looks up at her then, wiping his mouth at the back of his wrist. It’s glistening and she thinks it might be the best thing she’s ever seen. Reaching up, she presses the back of her dress’ sleeve to the corner of his lips. He smiles at her, so genuine and pleased that her heart flips. 

She takes his hand and stands, puts her hand at the back of his head and kisses him, tasting herself on his tongue. She grins against his lips when he pushes her back against the door, his body heavy and warm on her. 

“Morgana might be looking,” she says. “Meet me in the bathroom in 10?”

He nods and she turns to open the door, only to find it stuck. They stare at each other, eyes wide. 

“Maybe we can climb down through his bedroom window,” Lancelot says, and seems to measure the distance. “Or I could call. I don’t want you to break your neck.”

She looks over at the window that goes to Gwaine’s window, only a small step from the fire escape. “We’ll climb.” 

But since the door’s stuck, they might as well make the best of it. 

She sinks to her knees and presses her mouth to the hard outline of his dick.


	7. Mithian/Percival: Mithian masquerading as a knight in a tournament (2014)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s easier than Mithian expects to say, “Nemeth” with no tremor or remorse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **secrets and lies** for round 6 (2014) of pthon!

It’s easier than Mithian expects to say, “Nemeth” with no tremor or remorse. She puts her sword down on the table with enough force to command their attention and draws up to her full height, knowing the helmet hides her face and the chainmail covers her petite frame well enough. 

“I thought King Rodor had a daughter,” Sir Leon says, his keen eyes moving along her frame. The squire with quill to parchment looks up as well, but his air is one of complete disinterest. 

“He does,” she says, forcing her voice lower. “My sister.”

The chainmail clings to her shoulders and she shifts the shield in her hand a little as they both study her. She’d taken it from the armoury, the crest of the Nemeth royal court emblazoned on the front, making it heavy and significant.

Sir Leon’s eyes are still on her when the squire nods, waving her off in the direction of the arena. It’s not her first tournament, but none of the ones she's fought in has been at a royal court. In the villages, it’s much easier to hide behind her secret identity. 

The crowd slowly comes to life outside the tents and she sits in silence, fiddling with the ribbon she’s cut from her dress. The battles outside are familiar; the clangs of metal and the answering rise of the crowd, living and breathing with the fight. 

Mithian has always played the part of the perfect Princess, but her father’s knights have always said she has the fight in her. It blooms in her heart, strong and intoxicating. 

When she enters the arena for the first fight, her heart pumps hard in her chest and her lips spread into a grin that nearly hurts. When she’s announced, she hears the mutters. She knows that there are people in Camelot who will question the information that King Rodor has a son. 

She’s playing a dangerous game. 

But it doesn’t matter. Not when she unties the ribbon from her arm and presents it to the visiting Princess Elena whose blinding smile had graced them in Nemeth some seasons ago. Not when she wins fight after fight, moving light on her feet with the familiar weight of a sword pressed into her palm. 

The sun is almost setting in Camelot when she faces Sir Percival in the final game of the tournament, her calloused hands sore. Sir Percival is a mountain of a man, his build intimidating to every opponent he faces, but she knows the gentleness in his smile and the careful touch of his hands. 

Mithian avoids the first swing of his sword by a hair, her footing unsteady until she catches herself, grounding herself to the earth. Her sword strikes at Sir Percival’s weakest side, catching him slightly off guard. The surprise doesn’t show on his face. He’s too well-trained for that. 

She smiles to herself in the privacy of her helmet, dancing from foot to foot in a series of quick shuffles that makes the crowd gasp. 

The last time she visited Camelot, she’d been a princess, and Sir Percival had only battled his hesitations for a long evening before he welcomed her kisses readily, his big hands splayed over her thighs. 

She remembers the steady glide of him inside her, hot and thick, and the warm slickness of his tongue on her neck. She remembers taking him into her bed and straddling him like a horse, riding him with her hair spilling down her back as his hands brushed along her ribs. 

She knows those hands gripping the blade. She’d had them buried in her hair, skimming over her stomach, cupping her neck. His lips purse as he swings the sword in her direction and she jumps back, feeling the phantom press of his lips at her collarbone.

And so, beating him in battle is nothing. She knows Sir Percival. She knows his gasps and the blush on his wide chest. She’s watched him move enough to know where to strike. 

The feeling of watching him fall on his back, her sword hovering above his chest, is unnervingly close to the feeling of shaking apart on his cock. 

She looks up at the cheering crowd, grins and pulls off her helmet, her hair falling down the length of her back. She holds her sword high, meeting her uncertain future with her head turned to the sky.


	8. Percival/Gwaine: security cam voyeurism (2014)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes five days before The Wanker returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **trades and professions** for round 6 (2014) of pthon. And I went for the "security cam voyeurism" cliché because sometimes pthon is rough, ok! XD DEADLINES. PRESSURE. 
> 
> **Warnings:** voyeurism

It takes five days before The Wanker returns. 

The first time Percy saw the bloke jerk himself off on the monitor overlooking the storage room on level three, he’d laughed, thinking there was apparently a lot of things he’d see on this job.

This time he brushes his knuckles briefly over the hard outline of his cock when the bloke takes himself in hand, before gripping the armrests on his chair. He allows himself to watch every second.

^^^

The Wanker isn’t alone this time. His back is pressed to the shelves with another guy on his knees, head bobbing up and down unmistakably.

For some reason, the fact that The Wanker is into blokes makes everything different. The situation spirals out of control in that one moment of realisation, and Percy jams his hand into his trousers, gripping his dick so roughly it borders on painful. 

His thoughts race, flying way past the line he’s drawn for himself, and he pictures himself in the room, wonders what The Wanker’s cock feels like, what he sounds like when he comes. 

When The Wanker comes on the other bloke’s face, Percy resigns himself to completing a shift with a mess in his uniform.

^^^

The worst is, Percy didn’t even plan this. He never seriously entertained surprising anonymous Wanker bloke in the middle of the act. As a fantasy, sure, but in reality, no. But even in his fantasies, The Wanker had been shameful and apologetic, even a little frightened. It makes Percy all the more shaken when the bloke just grins, impish and teasing, as if this is normal, as if Percy couldn’t hand him over to the authorities – or worse; Uther Pendragon. 

“Hey, big guy,” the bloke says and then looks down at the hard cock in his own hands. “Sorry about this, I suppose. Probably not what they pay you for.”

Percy swallows, gestures vaguely at the hallway and says, “There’s a club a block down.”

“I’m flattered, but I’m not really in the mood for dancing.”

The bloke clearly holds back a laugh when Percy glares at him. “You’re very cocky for someone I should push right into the claws of Pendragon.”

“Ah,” the bloke says, “but since you’re so kindly emphasising the _should_ in this sentence, you’re not going to, are you?”

Percy really should tell him to fuck right off and have Pendragon take care of him, but then he’d have to explain his own role as well, and fuck if The Wanker isn’t dropping to his knees in front of him, intent and promise clear as day. 

The bloke’s eyes crinkle as he grins, and Percy is gut-punched by how fit he is, stubbled jaw sharp and his hair effortlessly handsome in the way that clearly isn’t effortless at all. His lips are plump, pink, and painfully inviting. 

Percy shuts the door behind him and resigns himself to the shame-tinged arousal in his gut, his cock hardening under the scrutiny of the bloke on his knees. He lets out a shaky breath when fingers smoothly pull down his fly, knuckles brushing over the outline of his dick. 

The bloke slides the head of Percy’s cock over his lips, his breath hot on the sensitive skin, prompting slow curls of arousal. His muscles tensing in anticipation, Percy watches unblinkingly as the bloke closes his plump lips around the shaft, sinking down as far as he can go. His mouth is stuffed full of cock, lips stretched red. He looks beautiful like this, jaw working as he hollows his cheeks, Percy’s cock gliding along his tongue. The hot wetness wraps tight around his dick, pleasure zinging along his skin. 

Percy’s body slumps back against the door when he tangles his fingers in the bloke’s hair and hitches his hips, not able to hold back a needy groan when the bloke gags. Percy rubs soothing circles into his scalp in apology, his cock jerking when he notices the bloke’s eyes watering. 

The perfect glide of his mouth is maddening, and Percy’s heart beats too hard against his ribs, the pleasure making him writhe. The bloke’s hands come up to pin his hips against the door. 

“Next time, I’m fucking you stupid against the wall,” Percy says, voice strained. 

The bloke pulls back and says, “Promise?” before sinking back down, so slowly that Percy slams his hips up just to see his eyes water again.


	9. Merlin/Arthur: fucking his best mate's brother (2014)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur Pendragon learns some things about himself this weekend:  
> 1\. He’s rather terrible at fishing.  
> 2\. A weekend trip to Gwaine’s cabin by the lake is exactly what he needed.  
> 3\. He wants to fuck Gwaine’s little brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **tropesmash** in round 6 (2014) of pthon. Tropes smashed were age difference and clothes sharing!
> 
>  **Warning:** There's an age difference, but Merlin is 17 so over the age of consent in the UK. Depending on where you live, he may not be over the age of consent where you live.

Arthur Pendragon learns some things about himself this weekend:  
1\. He’s rather terrible at fishing.  
2\. A weekend trip to Gwaine’s cabin by the lake is exactly what he needed.  
3\. He wants to fuck Gwaine’s little brother.

The latter is one revelation that Arthur wishes he could be without. His feet skim the surface of the water as he squints against the late afternoon sun, his hands gripping the edge of the docks. Soaking in the dissipating heat of the day, his thoughts don’t go to the column he should be writing, but to Merlin soaked to the bone after his tumble into the lake. 

Merlin had laughed, neck exposed as he threw his head back, white t-shirt sticking to his skin. Arthur stared, unabashedly, his eyes lingering on the smooth expanse of Merlin’s stomach.

When Merlin realised he’d only brought an extra pair of shorts, Arthur handed him his spare t-shirt and had to spend the rest of the day staring at the way it hung off his narrow shoulders, knowing it’d smell like Merlin when he got it back.

Shame had turned his cheeks pink every time he found himself staring at the thin, young frame of the _teenager_ wearing his shirt, looking like he belonged to Arthur. 

*

“What are you doing here?” Arthur says, pausing as the door slams behind him. 

Merlin sits cross-legged on Arthur’s bed and flashes a hesitant, boyish smile when he looks up.

“Thought you’d like your shirt back.” 

Arthur isn’t sure if he should comment on the absurdity of that explanation considering Merlin is still wearing it. It hangs off his narrow frame and Arthur wants to tear it off and gag him with it. Or bury his own face in it while he jerks himself raw.

Merlin’s lips are parted, as if he wants to say something.

“You’re seventeen,” Arthur says before Merlin can get the words out. 

Merlin squares his jaw. “Yeah, I am. A whole year older than sixteen. I’ve seen you watching all day, okay? I might be seventeen but I’m not an idiot.”

Shit, fuck, bugger, _fuck_. 

“I shouldn’t have. God, Merlin, I’m so fucking sorry for being ridiculously inappropriate.”

“Oh my god, stop.” Merlin gets up and moves towards him. “It’s not like you’re sixty. I like it when you stare.” He pauses. “It makes me hard.”

Arthur groans, his traitor cock hardening in his shorts. And Merlin is standing there, stupidly plump lips parted, wearing his shirt and smelling of sun-warm skin and sunscreen. 

Closing his eyes, Arthur takes a breath and reaches out, fumbling until his hands twist into _his_ shirt. He drags Merlin close, kissing him too hard and too urgent, the messiness of it betraying Merlin’s inexperience and his own desperation. 

But it’s so fucking good, Merlin’s tongue hot and eager, his long fingers resting uncertainly on Arthur’s ribs. 

He knows it’s fucked up. He knows Merlin probably hasn’t done much, but it just makes him want it more. He sucks bruises into Merlin’s neck, circles his hand around Merlin’s cock with a muffled groan of relief, swallows Merlin’s whimpers when he starts fucking up into Arthur’s grip. 

He should take it slow, be careful and considerate. But all he wants is to be the first one to fuck Merlin until he cries, to be the first one to feel Merlin come apart on his cock. 

“Keep the shirt on,” Arthur says, voice hoarse.

He pushes Merlin face first onto the bed, working him open with lube he’d left under the pillow after jerking off last night. Taking his time, he soothes Merlin with his free hand. He runs his hand softly through Merlin’s hair as he slides a third finger in, twisting them into Merlin’s greedy hole. 

Merlin bucks up into him and cries out, a bright flush disappearing under the neckline. 

“Ssh,” Arthur says. Gwaine is two doors down the hall. 

Arthur’s going to hell. 

Merlin mutters, “Please, please,” and Arthur slides inside, heart pounding against his ribs as Merlin takes him in. 

They fuck with Arthur’s hand clamped over Merlin’s mouth to muffle the desperate moans he can’t keep in, his arse taking the steady pounding of Arthur’s cock. Arthur has never felt so wired before, shame and bone-melting arousal mixing until he can’t even see straight. 

He buries his face in his shirt, smells Merlin and sex, drowning in the press of Merlin’s lips against his fingers and the idea of them wrapping around his cock.


	10. Gwen/Morgana, Gwen/Morgana/Others: actually-I-mostly-just-want-you threesomes (2014)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Gwen has sex, it’s because of Morgana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **snatch** from round 6 (2014) of pthon!
> 
>  **Warnings:** threesomes

The first time Gwen has sex, it’s because of Morgana. 

Technically, it’s _with_ Morgana, it’s just that there’s also the bloke from Morgana’s macroeconomics class that she’s been casually fucking. 

Gwen’s legs are spread wide, her knees sinking into the bedcovers, and there’s a dick inside her for the first time. It’s a foreign thing, disorienting and new and she thinks she’d be panicking a little if Morgana wasn’t stroking her hair. 

Gwen’s fingers curl into the sheets as Leon fucks her, thrusts no longer slow and careful. She bites down on her lip, moaning quietly, and Morgana shushes her, fingers running across Gwen’s jaw. 

“Wait,” Morgana says, and Leon slows, his hands still tight on Gwen’s hips. “Hold her up.” 

Leon wraps his hand around Gwen’s waist, giving Morgana room to lie down on her back right under Gwen, her legs spread to the side. Gwen is left staring at Morgana splayed out naked under her, heart stuck in her throat, as Morgana nudges her thighs until Gwen is straddling her. 

Before Gwen can even get used to all the naked skin, Leon slams back in, and Gwen falls forwards, catching herself with both hands on either side of Morgana. Their cunts are rubbing against each other as Leon fucks her, faster now, and Morgana moves with them, her gorgeous breasts bouncing in time with the thrusts. 

Gwen wants to cry. It’s more than she’d hoped for, the way Morgana is moving her hips too, her lips parted and her breath laboured. Gwen wants to kiss her, wants to twist their tongues together until there’s no pulling them apart. 

When Leon fucks Morgana with Gwen still on top of her, she wants to taste the moans falling from Morgana’s mouth. 

*

The first time Gwen gets her mouth on Morgana’s cunt, they’re at a party. Gwen has no idea who the other bloke is, and doubts Morgana does either, but Gwen has a hard time caring too much. She’ll take his cock too, if it means having Morgana like this.

Elena might kill them if she ever finds out what they’ve been doing in her guest bedroom. Not that Gwen is ever going to tell anyone. 

Gwen buries her face between Morgana’s legs, flicking her tongue against her clit with fast, little movements that has Morgana rolling her hips. Gwen fucks herself back on the bloke’s cock, enjoying the way it’s stretching her. She likes it, even though being fucked isn’t the reason she does this. But it feels good. Even his deep moans make her wet. 

But it’s still nothing compared to seeing Morgana throw her head back and gasp as Gwen’s tongue dips into her, licking slow patterns. Morgana grinds against her mouth, hands coming to twist into Gwen’s hair. When the bloke slams in, Gwen is pushed against Morgana, her face slick with wetness. 

She fucks Morgana with her tongue, greedy for it, so hungry for the way Morgana’s thighs clamp around her head, her moans loud even over the muted music from downstairs. Someone walks by outside the bedroom, but Gwen just keeps going, wants Morgana to come on her tongue. 

Afterwards, Gwen brings herself off while Morgana rides the bloke, her gorgeous body catching the light from the bedside lamp, hips moving in sensuous circles as her hair tumbles down her back. 

*

“Do you like them?”

“I don’t know, they’re alright. I prefer the mint ones.”

“No,” Morgana says, laughing briefly. “The threesomes.”

Gwen blushes, tucking her legs closer to her body. “Oh, yeah. I do.” She becomes painfully aware that they’re sitting on Morgana’s bed. 

“I know I kind of roped you into them.” Morgana looks so earnest then, stripped down. She’s only wearing her flannel pyjamas, her face free of make up. “Please tell me if you’d rather stop.”

“I wanted to.” Gwen swallows, looks down. “I—I like them because you’re there.”

The quiet stretches and Gwen panics. Oh, God. 

The bed dips and Gwen looks up, surprised, to find Morgana’s face close, her eyes wide and searching. And then their lips are pressed together, the tip of Morgana’s tongue sliding across her bottom lip. Gwen whimpers, opens her mouth into the kiss and drowns in the feeling of Morgana’s tongue in her mouth. 

Gwen comes harder than she’s ever come in her life with her fingers digging bruises into Morgana’s hips as Morgana grinds against her, unbearably hot and wet and perfect.


	11. Merlin/Arthur: time travel (2014)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Arthur turned the sigil’s dial, lines clicking into place, he didn’t expect to join Merlin in the middle of the French revolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **time travel** from round 6 (2014) of pthon!
> 
>  **Warnings** potentially confusing time travel?

When Arthur turned the sigil’s dial, lines clicking into place, he didn’t expect to join Merlin in the middle of the French revolution. The streets of Paris were in chaos, crowds milling around Arthur as he stood, looking up at a barricade that filled the narrow street. 

Atop it stood Merlin, shouting commands at people nearby. He was fresh-faced, limbs gangly, and the look in his eyes so much the Merlin who’d arrived at Camelot. It drew Arthur closer until he was climbing the barricade with difficulty, his bearings unsteady. 

Merlin didn’t acknowledge him, of course, not until they were face to face and Arthur was looking at him with his heart in his throat and his thoughts tangled. Merlin’s lips pulled into a smile and then he spoke in rapid French, pointing over Arthur’s shoulder. 

Of course Merlin didn’t speak English. Of course Merlin didn’t remember him. But he looked oddly beautiful, even surrounded by chaos and uncertainty. His face was glowing with young idealism, with ideas that Arthur couldn’t find himself in, couldn’t truly associate with Merlin. 

But when Arthur had his hand wrapped around Merlin’s cock in a dark corner of the inn, he was every bit the Merlin Arthur knew. It didn’t matter if the words from his mouth were foreign, every arch of his body was familiar. Arthur breathed wetly into his neck, emotions rolling dangerously in the pit of his stomach. 

He couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t stay, not when Merlin was destined to die before his eyes, not when Merlin didn’t remember him anyway. 

He turned the dial back.

&&

Arthur didn’t know how the sigil actually worked. He’d given it to Merlin once, only to get it in return years later, Merlin smiling cryptically when he told Arthur not to ask questions, especially not stupid ones. Arthur had learned, over the inexplicable amount of years he’d lived, to let the questions go. So whenever the sigil would turn golden, he picked it up with a rush of anticipation.

&&

Merlin stood with his back to Arthur, perfectly tailored trousers highlighting the swell of his arse. His office was lavish, windows from floor to ceiling and a large mahogany desk at the centre. The Merlin who turned around was older, laugh-lines around his eyes, oddly imposing in his suit. The salt and pepper hair was a look Arthur had never seen on any version of Merlin and it went straight to his cock. 

“Mr Pendragon?” His voice was the same, and Arthur ached, pulling himself together to nod. “Scotch?” All Arthur could focus on after that was the sound of Merlin’s voice and the tones of _She Loves You_ from the tinny radio speakers.

Arthur had no idea what contract they were negotiating, but after, he accepted the invitation for drinks and smiled with intent when Merlin’s leg pressed against his under the table. 

When Merlin took him back to his penthouse and fucked him on his enormous bed, Arthur knew him, all of him. He hung his head between his shoulders as he took Merlin’s cock, let it spread him wide and desperate. The hitches of Merlin’s breath were whispers of too many times gone by. 

He allowed himself the night, knowing there was no space for him in this life. 

&&

The sigil didn’t just glow golden this time, it rattled and burned bright hot. It pulled at him, whispered his name, and led him across the park outside his flat. There was music coming from the outdoor stage, a single person with a violin moving slowly across the it, playing to himself. He was so casual, as if his existence wasn’t a miracle. 

Arthur stopped, pressing his hand around the sigil. He hadn’t touched the dial. It hadn’t taken him back or forwards, it had barely taken him a few steps from his flat, and yet he’d know that body anywhere in space or time. 

The music died as Merlin’s eyes met his and he lowered the violin. 

“Arthur,” Merlin said, his gaze flickering to the sigil. 

Something in Arthur broke. It cracked down the middle and splintered into pieces. 

&&

“You remember,” Arthur said, lips pressed to the swell of Merlin’s arse. He traced his tongue along the rim, closing his eyes as Merlin moaned into the sheets. 

“Arthur, how the fuck could I forget?”

Arthur’s hands tightened on Merlin’s hips, fucking Merlin desperately with his tongue. That’s what Arthur had asked himself all along.


	12. Merlin/Arthur fuck to 90s music (2014)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin got his little red Toyota the summer after they left sixth form. It was the exact same day that Arthur bought _Definitely Maybe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **the five senses** from round 6 (2014) of pthon!

Merlin got his little red Toyota the summer after they left sixth form. It was the exact same day that Arthur bought _Definitely Maybe_. 

“I’ve been perpetually smelling of grease for three years to get this car,” Merlin said. “Why should _you_ get to pop my stereo’s cherry?”

“Hate to break it to you, but I think maybe it’s gone for a few rides already.”

Merlin shushed him. “I’m sorry, baby.” He stroked the dashboard, fingers sliding over the buttons of the stereo. “Arthur’s being a right dick as usual. He doesn’t know our love is pure.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and settled back in his seat as they pulled out of Merlin’s driveway. “I’m sure its last relationship involved Vanilla Ice.”

“Don’t use that kind of language in front of my stereo. Fucking Christ.”

Arthur snorted and opened the album case, sliding the booklet out. He mouthed the lyrics as he read them while they drove in silence, the window slid almost the entire way down in the summer sun. 

“Oh god, OK, “ Merlin said, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “Just pop it in.”

Arthur grinned. 

*

Merlin’s mouth tasted like ice lollies, all sticky-sweet. 

They didn’t talk about it.

*

“It hasn’t even been a week.” The breeze ruffled Arhur’s hair as he rested his head by the open window, peering out at the flawless day outside. 

“You’re the only person in the universe who listens to an album until they want to puke from it. I’m switching to Radiohead.”

“That’s the only way to listen to an album properly, you heathen. It doesn’t really settle in until you’ve heard it so many times you can hear the next track before it comes on.”

“You’re a fucking nutter, Arthur.”

“I’m not the one who thinks Radiohead is appropriate for summer.”

“ _Pablo Honey_ transcends seasons, you dick.”

Arthur hid a smile as he looked at Merlin out of the corner of his eye. The tip of Merlin’s tongue swept over his bottom lip and Arthur followed the movement, breath getting stuck in his throat. 

Leaning across the space between them, his heart creating some odd harmony with the opening bars of _Up In The Sky_ , Arthur pressed his lips to Merlin’s neck. A strangled sound passed Merlin’s lips and Arthur mouthed against his skin, the taste of summer on his tongue. 

“Fine, fine, you can keep bloody Oasis on,” Merlin said, voice strained, and Arthur laughed against his neck, leaving goose pimples in his wake. 

 

*

“Please,” Merlin whispered, hand guiding Arthur’s fingers over the inside of his thigh and down to the rim of his hole. 

Arthur held his breath, lungs burning, as the tip of his lube-slick finger traced the rim, hand shaking. God, he had no idea how this worked. He hadn’t prepared for this: Merlin naked on the grass, thighs spread wide and his fat cock hardening. 

Merlin’s fingers dug into his wrist. “Arthur, fuck. I do this to myself all the time, I want—”

A little pressure was all it took before Merlin opened up around him, yielding and accepting, and Arthur nearly pulled out in surprise as Merlin’s body went limp, his lips parted in bliss. It was a miracle Arthur hadn’t covered them both in come already. 

And fuck, he should be nervous that they were outside, that maybe they’d be seen, but the car shielded them from the path. The music spilling out from the open door enclosed them in a little world of their own, one where Merlin was unbelievably smooth inside.

“This is unbelievable,” Arthur said, mouth dry. “Fuck, I’m _in_ you.”

“Not enough of you.”

“Ungrateful twit,” Arthur said, ducking his head to hide a smile. He watched himself disappear into Merlin’s body and moaned, pushing in a second before he could doubt himself. 

Merlin’s eyes flew open and he pushed his hips down against Arthur’s hand. It was fucking disorienting to realise that his fingers were moving inside someone. And it was Merlin, too, who he’d never even seen like that, not until the sticky sweetness of his lips. 

Arthur leaned down and caught Merlin’s bottom lip in his mouth, swallowing Merlin’s desperate little moans. 

When he got three fingers inside Merlin’s arse, Merlin was riding his hand, a flush blooming from his cheeks to his chest. And Merlin came like that, Arthur buried deep in his arse as Merlin gave a final sob.

It was definitely maybe the best thing Arthur had ever done.


	13. Elena/Gwaine fingering on a porch swing because nostalgia (2015)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The swing on the porch of Gwaine’s parents’ cabin squeaks a little as it sways gently back and forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **cross** from round 7 (2015) of pthon!

The swing on the porch of Gwaine’s parents’ cabin squeaks a little as it sways gently back and forth. Elena has her knees tucked up against her chest, her chin resting atop them as she looks out over the lake. Further down the path, beyond the first row of trees, she can hear the rest of them. Smoke billows up from the bonfire. Someone shrieks, followed by another bout of laughter.

Elena hides a wistful smile against her knees.

Suddenly, the swing dips back and she grabs the rusty chains, letting out a surprised yelp. She looks up into Gwaine’s smug face and swats him. He laughs as he lets go and the swing rights itself.

“Move up.” He squeezes in next to her. They’re pressed together from knee to shoulder. “I guess we’re not eight anymore.”

“I think this is the final proof.” She disguises a smile.

Gwaine shifts with difficulty. “We used to be able to fit a bowl of crisps between us.”

“Maybe that’s our problem right there. Too many crisps.”

Elena looks out onto the lawn, down to the edge of it where it meets the lake, thinking of every sun-soaked summer memory. “Everything’s changing, right? Going to uni. Feels weird.”

“God, this thing is digging into my… move… no, wait. Christ, just…”

Elena laughs and accidentally elbows Gwaine in the stomach before she manages to settle down between his legs. She forces herself to relax, a little self-conscious about the heat of him along her back.

“So.” Gwaine’s breath tickles her neck. “Going to uni, then. Any regrets?” 

“Maybe. I never apologised to your mum for that broken vase.. And I never picked dare over truth because I was too chicken, really.”

“Well, one of those is easily fixed. Truth or dare?” 

She turns her head, brushing against Gwaine’s cheek as she does. “Dare.”

His gaze is heavy and she knows what the dare is, instinctively. Her lips ghost across his skin until they press to the corner of his mouth. Nerves bloom in her stomach and she wonders if this was a bad choice, but she feels different tonight – bold, like tomorrow belongs to a whole new Elena.

His hands come to rest at her waist when he kisses her back, hot mouth opening under her lips giving her a swooping feeling low in her gut. It’s messy and a bit off-centre, but it’s making her pulse race as his tongue presses along hers. 

Goose pimples follow in the wake of Gwaine’s hands slipping under her shirt to rub soft patterns on her belly, his thumb brushing the waistline of her jeans. She exhales shakily into his mouth and puts her hand on his, guiding it downwards.

He pulls out of the kiss, eyes searching her face, an unspoken question between them. She stares back, pops open the button on her jeans, and leans back against Gwaine’s shoulder, heart pounding.

Elena has spent her life choosing truth, has never been the first to ask out a boy, always been the one to listen to stories rather than tell them. But in that moment she feels alive, wired and wild when Gwaine's hand cups her under her knickers, his lips on her neck.

She digs her fingers into his thighs, spreads her legs when his fingers move in slow circles exactly where she needs them. Pushing back, she sinks her teeth into her lip and her eyes slip closed.

Before she has the time to catch her breath, two of his fingers push inside her and she bucks against him, breaks the stillness with her soft moan. He nips at her jaw, pressing a kiss below it as his fingers move, steady and full. She rocks down on them and whimpers at the heat that spreads in her gut.

The heel of his hand presses against her clit, and when she moves with him, jolts of pleasure zing through her at every desperate hitch of her hips. She’s wet and the sound of his fingers filling her, drenched in it, gives her a thrill that sends a shiver down her spine even as her cheeks glow hot with embarrassment. 

She comes with a long moan, fingers digging desperately into his thighs, body rocking her through the waves of release. When she slumps back, he loops his free arm around her waist.

“You promise we’ll be here again, right?” she says, breathless.

He hums and shakes with silent laughter before he says, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”


	14. Merlin/Arthur/Percival: anonymous sex club (2015)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine, drunk and grinning, had told him about the club a couple of months ago. “Mate, you’ve got to be ready for _anything_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **the magic of three** from round 7 (2015) of pthon!
> 
>  **Warnings:** unsafe sex, sex club

A staircase on the right led Merlin up to a dimly lit corridor. Painted on the first door he reached was a large, gold number one. He looked down at the smooth black key with the golden number three etched on it and carried on, his grip slick with sweat. Gwaine, drunk and grinning, had told him about the club a couple of months ago. “Mate, you’ve got to be ready for _anything_. Last time I was there, I was tied to the bed and two girls with strap-ons took turns fucking me blind.”

Merlin’s stomach clenched at the thought as he stopped in front of number three. He’d fantasised about this room since Gwaine’d told him about it, thought of a hundred different scenarios waiting behind the door when it swung open. All he had to do was open it. Surrender himself.

Pulse thundering, he pressed the key to the rectangular shape in the door until here was a loud click. Merlin pushed the door open, stepped inside and jumped when the door slammed shut.

The room was dimly lit in a soft yellow light, illuminating a large, broad-shouldered man kneeling on the floor, thighs so thick Merlin almost swallowed his tongue. His hands were curled around another set of fantastic thighs as he had his mouth fucked, lips red and spit-slicked. Merlin’s blood roared in his ears, hands shaking.

The bloke fucking his mouth brushed a thumb across his cheek, choked voice saying, “So perfect for me, Percy,” and Merlin’s gut flooded with greedy need. He wanted the blond bloke to say his name, just like that, sex spilling out of his hot mouth. The bloke turned his head and held Merlin’s gaze as he gave a particularly deep thrust that Percy took with a wet moan.

He slipped out of Percy’s mouth, said, “our company’s here,” and Percy got to his feet, smiling. Shit, he was tall, his dick fat and hard. When Percy strode towards him, Merlin watched it move with every step.

When they both undressed him, bodies close, a voice brushing his ear said, “I’m Arthur.” Their hands lingered on his hips, on his chest, near the base of his steadily hardening cock.

“’m Merlin,” he managed before Percy slipped his tongue into his mouth.

He was kissing back, urgent, when Arthur’s hand cupped his arse, fingers moving to press at his hole. They slid in easily and Arthur let out a surprised breath when Merlin bucked into it.

“God, yeah, you’ve prepared for this.” Arthur nipped at his jaw. “Do you want to get fucked tonight?”

Merlin nodded, panting against Percy’s mouth.

“Percy’s cock feels amazing up your arse. He’ll fuck you good.”

A thrill of anticipation raced up his spine and he buried his face into Percy’s neck, his skin oversensitive under their fleeting touches.

Even though there was a bed, they pushed Merlin to his knees on the slightly padded carpet. His cheeks flamed with heat as he tried to calm his shallow breath, thighs shaking as he waited. Percy mounted him from behind, his thick cock pushing in until he was buried in Merlin’s arse, his solid presence so overwhelming that Merlin took two great, gulping breaths.

Percy’s cock fucking into him with hard thrusts as his hole took it, wet and greedy and ready. He rocked back on it giving strangled noises when his arse clenched around the girth, his cock dripping onto the carpet below as he was pounded, taken and used so good.

He was losing track of anything but the feeling of dick in his arse when his open, panting mouth was stuffed full with Arthur’s cock. It slid roughly over his tongue as Arthur’s fingers tangled into his hair and Arthur didn’t stop until Merlin was nearly choking on it, mouth spread wide at the base. He was pushed forwards and Arthur moaned above him, fingers tightening.

It felt like his body belonged to someone else, like he didn’t know himself. He licked sloppily at Arthur’s dick, loved the taste of it on his tongue.

“Fuck, such a good mouth,” Arthur said, fucking in with a sharp roll of his hips. “You fucking his arse good?”

Percy’s only reply was a loud groan as he slammed in, filling Merlin with his come. Merlin’s shout was muffled by the cock in his mouth. He looked up, and his whole body shook when Arthur, eyes heavy with lust, groaned, “Merlin.”


	15. Merlin/Arthur: Running into an ex in a quiet beach town (2015)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were many things Merlin wanted from his relaxing sea-side holiday, like the smell of the sea, reading in the little café by the beach, burrowing under the blankets in the morning while he listened to the waves. None of those things included his ex-boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **tropesmash 2.0** from round 7 (2015) of pthon. We had to choose at least one setting, one trope and one kink from a list, and my choices were: Holiday, break up/make up, praise kink

There were many things Merlin wanted from his relaxing sea-side holiday, like the smell of the sea, reading in the little café by the beach, burrowing under the blankets in the morning while he listened to the waves. None of those things included his ex-boyfriend. 

It was therefore no surprise when Arthur slid into a seat at the café, completely oblivious to the world and the fact that Merlin was dying a slow, painful death. 

A slight breeze ruffled Arthur’s hair, as well as his newspaper. It’d been a year at least since they’d run into each other by the corner shop only to struggle through a halting conversation and count down the seconds until it was alright to leave. Merlin couldn’t quite figure out if Arthur’s hair was longer now or if his memory was faulty. 

Merlin thought that he might be able to make his escape until the very moment he found himself looking straight into Arthur’s surprised face. Anger he hadn’t touched on for a very long time burned like fire in his gut and he turned away. 

“Wow. Not even a little nod to spare?” 

Hearing Arthur’s voice was strange. Even with the scathing tone, it brought back long Sunday mornings, dinners in their tiny kitchen, Arthur’s soothing voice in his ear after Will’s funeral, an entire life he’d lost under the rubble of their relationship. 

It made him angrier. 

“Hello. Didn’t see you there.” 

Arthur snorted. “Guess old age has taken a toll on your eyes.”

“Right,” Merlin said and put his book down. “So how’s forty treating you, then? Still able to get it up?”

“Why, speaking from experience?”

The absurdity of the conversation almost made Merlin laugh, but the urge died as he remembered the plans they’d made for Arthur’s 40th birthday. He wondered if Arthur had followed through on any of them. 

He thought of the adoption papers he’d stuffed into the desk drawers he’d never opened since he moved. 

The fire blazed red hot.

*

Merlin pressed his face into the pillow, determined to hold back his moans and hide his burning cheeks. The grip on his hips was bruising, fingers dug into his flesh to drag him back into the thrust. Arthur fucked him with angry jabs, rhythm steady and just this side of too slow. The only thing that betrayed Arthur’s calm was his laboured breath.

Merlin met every thrust as his frustration built. The punishing force of them couldn’t quite make up for the poor angle or the agonisingly slow pace. 

Merlin looked over his shoulder. “Come on, just _fuck_ me, you piece of shit.”

“Shut up.” Arthur’s hand splayed out between his shoulder blades and pushed him down into the sheets. 

Merlin opened his mouth in a silent shout as Arthur finally fucked him properly, the sound of their skin obscene in the stillness of the bedroom. He rutted back onto Arthur’s dick, shameless in his need to just fucking come, just get off on Arthur’s cock and throw him out of here so he could forget ever having seen the now-greying hairs Arthur had always boasted about lacking. 

The hand on his back eased the pressure, brushed down across his ribs and came to rest on his stomach. Merlin panted, confused, his skin tingling oddly where Arthur’s other hand ghosted across his hipbone. The pace slowed and then Arthur’s body covered his, hot along his back as he was pushed down flat on the mattress. 

Merlin turned his head just as Arthur’s breath brushed across his shoulder. He shivered. 

Arthur fucked him slow and deep and the angle was just there, just where it should be.

“Fuck, you’re perfect like this,” Arthur said, lips brushing his ear. 

Heat spread to the tip of Merlin’s fingers and he bit down on his bottom lip, stubborn moans threatening to spill out. 

“You’re such a perfect fuck. Always eager, always so good for me.”

Merlin pressed up into the roll of Arthur’s hips, lost in the familiar words in his ear. When Arthur kissed the side of his mouth, finding mostly stubble, Merlin chased it, his heart beating rapidly as he met Arthur’s tongue. 

“Never thought you’d do this for me again,” Arthur said against his lips. “Be so good for me.”

Merlin’s fingers curled into the sheets. He gave up hiding how good it was and moaned pitifully.

“I want to come home.” Arthur’s words were muffled against his shoulder. 

Merlin sank boneless into the bed. “Yes.”


	16. Gwen/Hunith: sexual mentoring (2015)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **forbidden** from round 7 (2015) of pthon!
> 
>  **Warnings:** age difference (and possible inappropriate relatonship), but Gwen is never underage.

There’s something about Hunith that has always made Gwen confide in her. 

Hunith sits by the small kitchen table in her nightdress, eating grapes out of a glass bowl. “I always get a bit peckish round this time,” she tells Gwen with a smile after apologising for startling her.

It's that smile. It makes her confess things she’d sworn she’d never tell anyone. Like the real reason that she broke up with Lance.

Gwen swallows back the odd lump in her throat. It’s weird talking about it, here with Merlin’s mum. It’s like she’s twelve again, whispering questions about periods with a mortified blush on her face.

She doesn’t know how to feel about the words she’s just let into the world, unchangeable. Silence fills the small kitchen as Hunith picks another grape from the bowl. 

“Before I met Balinor, I’d only been with a girl.” Hunith meets Gwen’s eyes and Gwen can’t look away, stricken. “She was my best friend for the longest time and I loved her. But I was always very confused, and I—well.”

Hunith smiles crookedly when Gwen just opens and closes her mouth. “Don’t be ashamed of what you want. Listen to your body and your heart.”

“I—thanks. Thank you.”

*

Had Hunith kissed the girl? Of course she had, she’d been in a relationship, hadn’t she?

Did they ride each other’s fingers, breasts moving with the rhythm?

Did the girl come on Hunith’s tongue?

Gwen chokes on her food and Merlin pats her on the back.

*

When they were kids they used to think Hunith had some strange superpower, always knowing what they were up to. In reality, it’s just that the walls of the Emrys house are paper-thin.

“This is just help, Gwen. I’m helping.” 

Hunith’s hands skim over her thighs, spreading them on top of her yellow floral bedsheets. 

“Just help,” Gwen says, warm and tingly and flushed. 

Her heart races as she stares up at the ceiling, waiting for the feeling of Hunith’s mouth on her and listening for signs of life from Merlin’s bedroom. Even if the room feels stuffy, the air is cool against her nipples and she cups a hand over one breast on instinct. 

She’s exposed, open and waiting for Hunith, the woman who’s always been a mother-figure, the one she’d asked whatever she could never ask her dad. 

“I’ll show you how to make a woman feel good,” Hunith’s breath ghosts across Gwen’s inner thigh and she jolts, wetness flooding her cunt. 

“Yeah.”

Her back arches when Hunith’s mouth opens against her cunt, tongue following the slit, and Gwen moans, biting her lip against the burst of sensations in her gut. She reaches up and grabs the headboard, tries not to rub herself against Hunith’s face the way she desperately wants to. 

Hunith shushes her before she opens her up with her tongue, her hands spreading Gwen’s thighs when they want to clamp down around Hunith’s head. Gwen screws her eyes shut against the building pressure, unable to keep her hips still. 

Her eyes water with the strain of staying quiet when Hunith suckles on her clit, takes it into her mouth and flicks it with the tip of her tongue. The sheets are sticking to Gwen’s back as she writhes, not knowing how to release the crushing pressure of her need. 

God, she couldn’t handle it if Merlin found her like this, her cunt spread open on his mother’s tongue, being taken apart until she’s nothing but a sobbing mess. 

She rocks her hips, rides Hunith’s face shamelessly until it’s so good she can’t tell up from down. And she comes like that, biting the back of her hand as her breath comes out in muffled, broken gasps.

When she returns the following night she puts her lips on Hunith’s cunt with purpose. She buries herself in it, drinks it like she’s dying of thirst, takes Hunith’s muffled moans as her prize. She looks up to find Hunith flushed and shame-faced, and says, “I just need to practise.”


	17. Merlin/Arthur: soulmate marks (2015)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur used to trust destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge **switch** from round 7 (2015) of pthon! Round 7 of pthon had 5 weeks rather than 7, so this is the last entry to be posted (for now?)
> 
>  **Warnings:** soul bond

Arthur used to trust destiny. 

With the mark of his soulmate inked into his skin, it was easy to feel like the universe was looking out for him. As if destiny pulled him towards the place he was supposed to be, even when he took long and winding detours. 

Merlin is a detour. 

Bright, exciting, beautiful. 

“I’m not your match,” Merlin had said under the fairylights at Morgana’s garden party, “but I like you.”

Merlin’s mark is an intricate, abstract pattern in the crook of his elbow. The first time Arthur fucked him, Merlin pressed his face into it, arm slung over his head. He was pliant under Arthur’s hands, fucked out and sated, and Arthur liked the feel of him, liked the way they fit. It was easy like this, being good together, even as they both knew they weren’t destined for each other.

Arthur doesn’t trust destiny anymore. 

He spreads his thighs wider, his legs hooked over Merlin’s thighs where he sits on his knees, dick deep in Arthur’s arse. Merlin drags him back into every thrust, grip firm and bruising. His arse is so full and he still wants more, feels like something is missing, that little thing he can’t put his finger on. He grinds down on Merlin’s dick, head thrown back against the mattress. 

Gripping his own cock, he jerks himself in time with Merlin stuffing him full. 

“God, yeah, Arthur,” Merlin says, hands rubbing soothing circles on his skin. “Keep doing that.”

Arthur looks at him, raises a mocking eyebrow like he always does when Merlin starts getting mouthy and toes the line towards cheesy porn dialogue. He gets distracted when a finger traces the rim of his hole and his leg jerks. 

Merlin laughs, delighted, and Arthur wants to fuck him so hard, fuck the mark belonging to someone else right off his body.

He grabs onto Merlin’s arms and uses his grip to grind himself on Merlin’s thick cock, his breath stuttering. Merlin’s mouth goes slack.

“Fuck, I want this,” Merlin says, and even through the frantic haze, it makes Arthur pause. 

Their eyes meet and they both know it’s not that simple, not when destiny has promised them away to someone else. Arthur’s anger bubbles to the surface and he groans, low and harsh, not knowing if it’s from anger, pleasure or both. 

“I don’t care about the mark, I want to be with you, I want–” Merlin moans, stilling inside Arthur for a moment before he sets up another bruising rhythm. 

“Me too, Merlin, fuck. The mark, I’ll get a tattoo over it. I’ll–”

Merlin laughs, hysterical, and comes.

\---

They yell each other’s name at the same time and Arthur stumbles over the kitchen chair in his haste to get to Merlin, only to collide with him in the doorway to the bathroom. He grabs him by the t-shirt and holds on, knuckles whitening. 

“Is yours–?”

“Yes.” Merlin is breathless. 

At the crook of Merlin’s elbow is a small, intricate coin, identical to the one that has overwritten Arthur’s own mark. He presses two fingers against it, traces the outline, his hand shaking. 

It’s destiny’s turn to trust Arthur.


End file.
